


Peter Has A Glow Up, Etc

by peterdarling



Series: Perfect Places [2]
Category: Fantastic Four, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, No specific universe, Probably not though, Spideytorch Week 2017, growth spurt, i mean high school sucks not boys but they kind of do too, i'll edit this later, inspired by the hormone tornadoes aka boys in high school, plot??? yeah i can't find it either, puberty hit peter like a truck, sigh, teenage spideytorch, which kind of sucks, written at 1 am please forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 07:40:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10826793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterdarling/pseuds/peterdarling
Summary: Written for spideytorch week 2017, day 5 - JourneyPuberty must have hit Peter like a truck while Johnny was away.





	Peter Has A Glow Up, Etc

**Author's Note:**

> Hello I would like to start by saying I am very tired but I didn't want to miss the deadline so here is a practically unedited written in one or two hours piece of crap  
> It took me eight tries to spell mischievious  
> I definitely took today's theme and mangled it so it was unrecognizable but idk it said it could be an emotional journey too so this is....kind of like that I guess I'm sorry guys  
> Um this really has no specific universe and tbh I don't know a lot about Fantastic Four so I apologize for anything that doesn't make sense or is out of character.  
> I think I've been saying I'm sorry a lot so I should probably end these notes ok please enjoy! I promise I will edit it on Monday haha.  
> edit: it's way past when I said I'd edit this but it's a Monday sooo....

Johnny woke up excited to go home and see Peter. He’d been away for two months in space with the Four—months in Earth time, anyways, only a couple weeks for him—which left him longing to see his brown-haired beau. He was generally pouting without seeing his best friend and boyfriend for so long, and as a result, even more raging with hormones than usual.

The kid in question was the man, the myth, Spider-Man, aka Peter Parker. Depending on who you asked, he was the distrustful vigilante of New York City, or a Midtown High Mathlete. Neither seemed better than the other to Johnny. Everything about them clicked—warring wits and the never-ending battle of who got to choose the movie they would watch. Of course they argued; they were moody teens with too much responsibility, too much expected of them at too young of an age, but there was nothing they couldn’t make it out of intact (relationship and hero-wise). At the end of the day, they’d still send each other cute goodnight texts, which were #goals even though Johnny’d be up for a few more hours and Peter’s night had only just begun.

There were still those that questioned their relationship and even the validity of it. Peter had always been gangly, a mess of bony limbs that made him look like the floppy things outside of car dealerships blowing in the wind. His bones themselves seemed thin, almost, and made him seem even smaller, earning him the nickname Puny Parker among his more undesirable peers. His jeans hung permanently loose on legs that, frankly, held as much grace as a newborn giraffe (except for the times when they curled up tightly to make a flip faster, or stretched impossibly to kick an enemy). Pete was bookish and surely not as sporty as some other boys his age, but that was part of the charm. As much as Johnny had a reputation for being vain, he’d rather Peter be skinny and have a good personality than be a Calvin Klein model without one.

Not everyone saw his reasoning. People online, people who’d never met Peter, were confused as to why a hotshot celebrity like Johnny Storm would turn down models and actresses and the thousands of gorgeous people practically throwing themselves at him for some string-bean nobody from Queens with acne and pretty average features. Johnny tried his best not to let any of that get to him and told Peter to do the same, but Pete didn't have practice like Johnny did. The blond worried that he might take some of the harsher comments to heart. 

Even as he stepped into the familiar lobby of the Baxter Building, his Instagram feed exploding with likes and comments and mentions, there was the odd comment on his relationship.

**johnnyspurpleshirt:** how is someone so attractive dating someone so average

**elliebellie98:** i don’t feel as bad for being ugly when this guy is banging Johnny

**flameonfelix:** WHY IS THIS FUGLY FIVEHEAD SLUT DATING THE HUMAN TORCH WHEN HE WON’T EVEN OPEN MY DMS AND I’M CUTE??!!!!??!?!?! 

...Some were worse than others. 

He tried to stop them when he could while maintaining his aloofness. Johnny was a self-admitted media whore, and preened under the approval of others, but his opinion of Pete could never be changed by a bunch of 1s and 0s. He ignored the comments and criticism, and Peter was cute, which Johnny assured him of. He was sure Peter worried anyways. The comments frustrated Johnny to no end. Why couldn’t the rest of the world see how friggin’ adorable Peter was? Well, many of them did and said as much, which created a nice balance between supportive comments and spam or hate ones, but he wanted everyone to know. Could they not see Pete’s little dimple, and the freckle on his neck, and how absolutely darling they were?

Not that Johnny had spent the two weeks away looking at the few candid pictures of Peter on his phone and obsessing over his face and writing tacky poems in his notes. Nope.

Essentially, Peter was cute, especially to Johnny, and nothing would change that. Besides, what Johnny could see that others couldn’t was the potential of Peter’s still-developing looks. He was just a teenager, and teenagers experience this cool little thing called puberty, which was not complete just yet in Peter. By this, Johnny meant that in Peter’s unrefined facial structure he saw the stern looks of his father combined with the kinder features of his mother, which he knew from the few pictures Peter had shown him or that he’d found on the internet in his curiosity. He saw muscles peeking out of the long limbs that hid incredible strength, and unruly mask hair that could be sexy if Peter ran his fingers through it the right way.

So yes, Peter was cute, and he certainly would be hot. Johnny still wasn’t expecting what he came back to.

Johnny walked towards the elevators with an anticipating smile gracing his lips. Reed and Sue had stayed with the ship a while longer, doing tests and run-throughs and other science things that he couldn’t really help with, and while Ben took one cab to see Alicia, Johnny took another to go home. He took advantage of his time in the elevator to check his texts and Snapchats (giggling in an especially besotted way at the one’s from Peter) and check his hair in the mirrored elevator walls before pulling up Peter’s contact.

The harsh tones of FaceTime rang as Johnny stepped in the living room. He slipped off his shoes and fell onto the couch that he missed so dearly, schooling his face into a look that he knew gave him a “I’m naturally picture ready every second of my life” appearance, which wasn’t entirely untrue. It rang a few more times, the long pause between each making Johnny think Peter wouldn’t answer, until reflective lenses and a red suit framed by the Manhattan sky appeared on screen. 

“Johnny!” Spider-Man shouted through a mask and bad internet connection. “You’re back. I missed you! Oh, my God.” The familiar wrinkle in the spandex showed Peter’s smile indirectly. “Can I come over?” He frowned. “No, wait, that’s rude, I’m supposed to wait until you invite me over in case you don’t actually want to see me,” he rambled, manners instilled by his aunt coming to mind.

Johnny’s posed grin melted into something warmer, more sincere, at the sound of his voice. “I missed you too, dork. Yes, come over,” he chided, “Obviously I want to see you!” He bounced on the cushion like a toddler, but he was too excited to care all that much. 

Peter flipped the camera so that the infallible steel skyline showed. “Good, because I’m like, two minutes away from Baxter.”

Of course he was. Johnny was glad for it. 

His mischievous smile was only slightly ruined by his eager demeanor. “See you in two minutes.” He hung up, sad to cut his only contact for weeks short but not seriously regretting it as he’d see him in person in a short amount of time. Johnny walked—okay, ran—to his bedroom to open the window.

He saw a flash of red and blue in the reflection of a building, and before he knew it, a sprawling figure barreled onto his floor, skewing the rug and forcing Johnny to jump out of the way to avoid impact. Spider-Man pushed himself off the ground, yanked his mask off, and strided to close the space between them. 

“Wait!” Johnny pushed at Peter’s chest, one hand on each side of the spider symbol. He stared at the face in front of him. His lips were as plump and red as usual, kissable without him knowing it, but he otherwise looked older, sterner, and overall, hotter. The roundness of his mouth was offset dramatically by sharp cheekbones and the harsh slant of his brow. He stood at least an inch taller than when Johnny had last seen him, holy shit, and his muscles felt more pronounced underneath his palms. It seemed that after staring at old pictures of Pete before his apparent growth spurt, the differences were shockingly obvious. And so, so dreamy. 

See, Instagram, Johnny knew he’d get hot!

Peter’s brow furrowed. Usually, they immediately latched onto each other like leeches in a lake and were difficult to separate for anything slight of a disaster, so Johnny’s hesitance made him nervous. Did Johnny call him over so he could break up with him? Maybe he’d found some Princess Leia while he was up in space—no, because then he wouldn’t have seemed so excited over the phone. Did his have mustard on his face? He knew he shouldn’t have eaten that on the day Johnny came home, two months he had to prepare and still—

“Holy fuck” breathed Johnny wondrously. “Puberty hit you like a truck.”

Through his confusion, adoration, and frazzled nerves, Peter’s mind only really registered that that sentence had rhymed before he was occupied by supporting Johnny’s thighs, which clung to Peter’s hips, and trying not to choke on the tongue Johnny shoved down his throat.

**Author's Note:**

> Yell at me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/petermydarling)!


End file.
